


Aftermath

by Contraband



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftercare, Aftermath of Violence, Comfort, Drabble, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Blood, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Season 6 Spoilers, voltron season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 05:26:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14948405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Contraband/pseuds/Contraband
Summary: A drabble slice of Keith being there for Shiro when he wakes up post-season 6 ending.





	Aftermath

Shiro's eyelids fluttered and he blinked against the light, despite how dim it was in the rest bay. Keith had made sure to keep the lighting at a minimum, but it was clear that even what little was left was enough to make him uncomfortable as he woke.

  
"Hey . . . it's good to have you back," Keith said, his voice nearly breaking on the familiar words. It seemed like he was fated to repeat this cycle, sometimes: nearly losing Shiro, desperately fighting to get him home, and then welcoming him gently back into the world that refused to give either of them a break.

  
Shiro coughed lightly, drawing in a deep, shaking breath. And then his dark eyes met Keith's and the softness there immediately cloaked Keith in a warmth he hadn't realized how much he had missed. Unlike the feral, cruel flash to them he had seen when Shiro had been That Other Person, he was now himself, full of affection and reassurance.

  
"What happened?" Shiro asked. His throat sounded hoarse and Keith quickly leaned at the edge of the bunk where he had been sitting, to reach for a bottle of water. He had a small pile of supplies on the stand, just waiting for when Shiro would wake and need them.

  
Keith opened the bottle for him and offered it to Shiro.

  
After a beat, Shiro reached with his left arm, and Keith realized he would only just now be getting a chance to adjust to his right arm being gone again. It was sure to be a bit of a shock, but he was taking it in stride so far.

  
Shiro's fingers shook a little as they closed around the bottle, and Keith placed his own hand over Shiro's to steady him. Together, their hands brought the bottle up to where Shiro could drink, and he drank deeply.

  
Then he asked, "How long have I been out?"

  
Keith smiled slightly. "Only a day. We gave you some pain meds, so they kept you out for a while. But you're doing really well. You're going to be just fine." He hoped the fear that had been his only companion while he sat there waiting didn't show in his voice . . . the overwhelming fear that things wouldn't be okay after all.

  
Shiro was watching him with those soft, safe eyes, and he smiled slowly. "You found me. Again. I knew you would. I knew you would find a way."

  
Keith felt his cheeks flush a little and he ran a hand through his long hair, unsure how to respond.

  
"I'm so proud of you, Keith," Shiro said, his voice barely above a whisper.

  
"Shh," Keith said, uncomfortable with the praise. Especially when he felt like he should be saying it to Shiro. They had both been through so much in the last couple years. Keith had nearly died, and Shiro had. But even death couldn't keep them separated. He just wanted to focus on that. On being together again, and maybe, just maybe, catching the smallest break.

  
Keith reached out a hesitant hand to touch Shiro's cheek. He was warm with life and Keith's fingers strayed towards the whitened hair that was getting just a little shaggy over his ear. It looked so different like this. It was a testament to the trauma his body had been through. But it felt the same as it ever had, soft and comforting. Keith tried not to think about the fact this was a different body than the one he had known.

  
But Shiro was clearly thinking about it too. "It's still me," he said quietly. "Finally, it's me. I'm here, Keith."

  
Keith's breath caught in his throat and all of a sudden his eyes were stinging. He didn't know how much he needed to be reassured. After how vicious and uncaring The Other Person had been . . . after the things he had said . . . of course Shiro knew. He had been watching out for Keith, even from that other plane. And he must be just as desperate to know it was okay. That it didn't change anything.

  
"I'm not losing you again," Keith said, his voice straining. His fingers sunk into Shiro's hair more firmly, kneading at the tufts, and he set his other hand on Shiro's shoulder. A flash image of having severed the arm from this shoulder went through his mind, but he didn't react. He just let it be acknowledged, let it pass. Let himself remember that it was over now.

  
For a while neither of them said anything more. Keith retrieved some bandages and disinfectant from the stand after a little bit and held them up, giving Shiro a firm look. "I know you hate other people looking after you, but I won't take no for an answer. It's time to change out some of your bandages."

  
Shiro just chuckled weakly, his laugh turning into another strained cough. "I don't think I have a choice, then."

  
There were so many cuts and bruises, it was impossible to care for them all thoroughly. But the largest ones -- the gashes from their fight . . . those Keith could tend to. More than that, he needed to. Whether it had been His Shiro, he felt responsible. He hated that he had hurt him. That he was hurting now, laid up in bed, because of Keith.

  
He tried to channel how apologetic he felt as he worked. There was a cut on Shiro's shoulder that was pretty bad. Keith shifted his shirt aside a little to get at it and slowly began peeling back the blood-stained bandage. Shiro winced but didn't complain.

  
Keith hated seeing Shiro hurt. He hated knowing he was in pain. But he also knew he couldn't dwell on it. Not that there had been another Almost-Shiro, who, at least on some level, had the same set of memories and programming, that cared about Keith too, however much he could. And that that Shiro was now dead, to give room for His Shiro to claim a new body. A new broken, damaged body. Maybe there was no option but to dwell a little. It was a lot to accept.

"We're in . . . we're in the lion, huh?" Shiro's voice cut through his murky thoughts.

  
Keith nodded, getting an alcohol pad ready to swab at the wound. "We're on our way to Earth. But we all needed a rest. Can't pilot non-stop. We're taking it slow until you're officially cleared."

  
Shiro scowled slightly and Keith knew what he was going to say before he did. "I don't want to slow us down. You don't need to be back here with me."

  
Keith just raised an eyebrow sternly and pressed the alcohol pad down. Shiro grimaced, drawing in a sharp breath through his teeth.

  
"I want to be here with you. Honestly, even if you were fine, nobody could pry me away. You scared the shit out of me, Shiro. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

  
Shiro listened to Keith's words with a stubborn expression at first, but by the last words, his features had softened and Keith saw remorse there. "I'm so sorry, Keith. For what you've been through. I wish I could have protected you from it."

  
Keith sighed quietly, watching dark red blood seep into the alcohol pad. Good, the bleeding was mostly done and just needed clean-up now. "It's not your fault. Please don't let yourself think that. I'm just so thankful you're alright."

  
Shiro swallowed hard and nodded a little. "I was scared for a beat or two there that we would be reunited on my side of things. I underestimated you. I mean it when I say I'm proud of you, you saved us both, and I'm more grateful than I can ever say."

  
Keith carefully placed the new bandage and pressed it down, as gently as he could and still make it stick. Then he leaned to place a kiss to Shiro's forehead. It felt hot. Keith would have to check for fever again, just in case the other wounds weren't faring as well as this one had. "Just let me take care of you, Shiro. You've done it enough for me. It's my turn now."

  
Shiro drew in a few deep breaths, his features relaxing as he accepted Keith's words. "Thank you," he murmured. "Just this once, I guess I could . . . try to take it easy."

  
"Good," Keith said, resting his forehead against Shiro's. "I'll be here when you wake up, if you need to rest."

  
There was no 'if.' Shiro was already breathing more deeply, his eyelids flickering slightly over tired eyes. Keith smiled softly to himself.

  
It would be a hard road for both of them. Not just with everything on Team Voltron's plate in the coming days, but for their personal recoveries. They had a lot to heal from, heart and body. Dealing with what it meant to have been impersonated by a clone for so long, what it meant to have died, to have been in an astral plane, unable to be heard . . . the things Keith had learned, about his past and about Shiro . . . it was going to be a lot of trial and error getting to a stronger place mentally. But at least they would have each other through this new journey. And together, Keith was sure that they could face anything that came their way.


End file.
